


Kindred

by jeejaschocolate



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Intimate touching, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Poverty, Sexual Tension, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Urban slice of life AU) Ichigo is a struggling pre-med college student, Renji is his best friend at a part-time job. Both are just trying to get by, but it turns out they have more to offer each other than just friendship...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the background for this story!
> 
> This is my first Bleach fanfic for one of my very few, very favorite pairings in this fandom. I came up with the idea for this AU because of my own personal experience as a resident of New York City. Not to get too personal, but I live and work in neighborhoods affected by poverty, so all of the situations I write about here (like Renji's backstory and all the "slice of life" aspects) are things that either myself, my friends, or close colleagues have experienced. I hope it comes off as real and respectable, not exploitative or heavy-handed, because I just wanted to write a little about some of the things urban life has to offer. Also, I could not avoid seeing some parallels between the Bleach depictions of Rukongai and then real life...
> 
> So, sorry if this is a little too much! Hopefully it's not, and you find it as heart-warming and sexy as I do. 
> 
> Planning on three chapters, but we will see where this goes!

Chapter One  
  
  
Warm, warm hands... They travelled down the length of his body at an agonizing pace, letting him feel every second, every sensation that passed along his sensitive skin. He wanted those hands all over, touching everything. He would give it all up willingly, just to feel those amazing hands discover every inch of him.  
  
Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut harder. He could see bare flesh in his mind’s eye, a toned chest, six-pack abs, and a rippling back. His mouth watered at the sight, having seen it clearly a number of times before. If he concentrated, he could imagine the shape of the black ink making its way across hard shoulders, slithering up and down the skin in a pattern that Ichigo wished he could trace with his fingers...  
  
His eyes shot open. Darkness greeted him, along with the dull, ordinary sight of his dorm room. He was alone, of course. Sweaty and panting, with a raging hard-on between his legs. Ichigo had already gripped his manhood firmly in one hand, stroking himself quickly in his usual way.  
  
But he hadn’t meant to...not again, anyway.  
  
Icihio sighed. He blinked and the image in his mind came right back. Damn it, he was tired, he could not focus on anything else, just the thoughts that refused to leave him alone. How long could he go on like this, half insane from lack of sleep and needing to get off so bad his balls ached worse than if he had been kicked?  
  
Fine, he would give in then. He really needed to sleep.  
  
Closing his eyes one more time, Ichigo let his mind show him what his body wanted. Tattooed skin, bright red hair wrapped up in a ponytail...a familiar sight that always left him feeling just a little too hot, with a strange longing in his chest.  
  
In his fantasy, Renji was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. Hands on his hips, chestnut eyes trained on Ichigo, the man was standing in his typical carefree, challenging stance, legs slightly apart. If Ichigo focused, and it made his heart beat faster just to think about it, his hand gliding up the length of his cock now, he could see the outline of telltale bulge in the front of his friend’s shorts.  
  
“What do you say, Ich, you want this?”  
  
Ichigo could hear the words so clearly, picture the defiant smirk on that one-of-a-kind face. That was more than enough, thinking about his friend saying that, standing there like that... Ichigo came hard into his hand, gritting his teeth to stifle the groan that he could not hold back.  
  
When his hand finally stilled, his body relaxed, chest heaving, Ichigo opened his eyes wearily. Still in his room. Still alone, of course. That was not going to change any time soon. He blinked his eyes, not surprised to find that there were some tears there, but he would not wipe them away for fear of admitting that they existed at all.  
  
Why did he always do this, always think about this? And why did he always (not always, sometimes, but still) have to tear up when he climaxed? He did not feel sad, at least the young man did not think he was sad, so why should he cry? It made no sense, but emotions like that were strange to him most of the time.  
  
Ichigo figured his body was just fucked up.  
  
After all, who fantasized about their best friend (another man, a card-carrying heterosexual at that) when they jerked off? Who needed to do that just so they could fall asleep?  
  
Yeah his body was definitely fucked up. And he was probably going to hell for it too, what with the things his mind thought up for his own pleasure.  
  
But at least, he could sleep now. All his energy gone, Ichigo fell into a coma-like sleep.  
  
_________________________________________________  
  
  
His alarm went off at exactly 6:00 am. For a brief moment, the sound was part of Ichigo’s dream before he realized that there was reality waiting for him, again, too soon. In a haze, he shut off the alarm and pulled himself out of bed.  
  
The sun had not quite risen yet. The light streaming in from his window was a pale blue in color, the strange, unsettling light of pre-dawn. Yawning, Ichigo washed his body quickly in the small bathroom (water closet, really, the shower did not have a tub or anything, it was just a shower-head attached to the ceiling, painfully close to the toilet that shared wall space with a tiny, bucket-sized sink). He bumped his elbow against the wall tile, same as he did every morning, feeling like an over-sized giant in this bathroom closet.  
  
Well, what did you expect from low-cost housing? Ichigo could not complain. This place was affordable, he lived alone (well, reasonably alone, though the sounds in his walls ominously pointed out that he probably had more than a few little friends roaming around), and he slept well on the twin bed. He even had a small pantry and counter space that could hold both a hot plate and a microwave. That counted as a kitchen, right? More than enough.  
  
Besides, the most important part of this rent-controlled studio apartment was that Ichigo had found a way to fit a modest writing desk next to his bed. The only way it fit was to squish it against the foot of his bed, which meant that he had to be careful when he slept not to stretch out his legs too far and knock something over, but that was doable. He could not fit the desk against the head of the bed, which would have made more sense, because the head of the bed had maybe three inches of wall space next to it before running into the bathroom doorway. So this was the only option, but Ichigo was more than pleased.  
  
Having a desk meant that Ichigo had a place to do his school work. As a pre-med student in his third year of undergraduate school, Ichigo’s class load was hefty, to say the least. Even now, Ichigo’s eyes drifted over the pile of books on his desk and the closed laptop (an old model, on loan from the college). He briefly went over the mental checklist of assignments he had left to complete, the semester was halfway through, midterms would be coming up, why was microbiology so damn hard...?  
  
But Ichigo shook his head to remind himself what he needed to do in that moment. There would be time for schoolwork later, he would make sure of that, right now he needed to go to his part-time job.  
  
Pulling on a sweater and running out the door, Ichigo jogged down the shabby steps of his apartment building, pushing open the front door with a loud wrenching sound (he felt bad about that actually, it was only six in the morning, people were probably still asleep). The cool morning air greeted him. Shivering slightly, Ichigo hunched his shoulders and unlocked his bike.  
  
Ichigo probably could have ridden the way from his apartment to his job with his eyes closed, so he let himself relax a little once he was on the bike and pedaling at an even clip. Living downtown out of the way of any nearby public train meant that he had to bike almost everywhere, but Ichigo enjoyed the ride most of the time. Dangerous as hell, but that was part of the fun!  
  
Passing through a stretch of projects, singular groups of children mysteriously unattended on the various playgrounds despite how early it was, Ichigo pedaled hard up Broadway, passed a bunch of high-risers and name-brand stores. He rode by his main college campus, appreciating the sight of it.  
  
Ichigo loved being part of that school, loved how his student ID gave him access to the well-kept buildings and the extravagant library. He did not consider himself a nerd, even though who really cared about that anymore, but Ichigo knew he could get lost for hours in that library just looking at all the books. There was something about old things that caught his eye, like looking into the lifeline of another age. It appealed to him. He devoured everything he found on the history of kenjutsu, imagining intense sword fights in his head all the time.  
  
The college that Ichigo attended rented out a few floors of apartment buildings throughout the city. They offered some of the studio apartments to students who opted for low-cost housing. Ichigo lived outside of the campus, in a neighborhood that he considered to be alright. That meant that he had the opportunity to experience living on his own for real. The young man was proud of that. He knew his father, who could afford little to none of Ichigo’s college experience, was proud of him for taking all of it on by himself. That felt good, too.  
  
Still, in order to afford the cost of living, in addition to the tuition that was leftover after grants and scholarships, on top of books and class materials, Ichigo had to get a part-time job alongside his schoolwork. Work-study jobs were hard to find at his college, so Ichigo just went around and applied to all the places in the nearby vicinity, looking for anything that offered a paycheck. What he found was a job as a dishwasher and kitchen assistant in a Vietnamese restaurant. Cleaning out half-eaten bowls of pho wasn’t so bad, especially when he got to take home some freshly cooked food for his own meals. Overall, not a half-bad arrangement.  
  
Then there was the other part of it...  
  
Working at the restaurant, Ichigo met some people he genuinely liked. Everyone seemed to tolerate him as a newbie, then they appreciated him for the hard work he did. It was also where Ichigo met his now best friend, Renji Abarai.  
  
Renji was one of the full-time workers at the restaurant. When the two first met, Renji was downright resentful of Ichigo, who had filled in the job right after the guy’s good friend, a girl named Rukia, quit to work as a secretary for a rich snobby guy (Byakuya was the name, even Ichigo had heard of him). Renji was still pretty raw about the change, taking Rukia’s decision personally, and he took it out on Ichigo at first. He spared no help for the new kid, grunted instead of engaging in even polite conversation, and piled on the dishes faster than Ichigo could keep up, just to make him look bad. But Ichigo had taken it all in stride, seeing it as a kind of challenge, improving his speed at washing the dishes until even Renji had nothing left to fill the sink with. When the manager caught Renji trying to speed customers along with their meals, just so he could have more dirty dishes to throw at Ichigo, the jig was up. Their manager scheduled them together constantly after that, telling them that if they didn’t work together, they were both out.  
  
After that, Renji found ways to irritate an already frustrated Ichigo. He would bump into the young man, hip-checking him to make Ichigo splash dirty water onto himself, ignoring his requests to put cabbage away in the fridge so it would go bad and Ichigo would have to take the blame.  
  
Eventually, Ichigo just confronted him about all the unfair treatment. One day after work, Ichigo stepped up to Renji as the young man was unlocking his own bike for the ride home.  
  
“What exactly is your problem with me?” Ichigo had asked, speaking directly to Renji’s back, bright red ponytail sticking out defiantly in Ichigo’s line of sight.  
  
Renji was silent, then shrugged his shoulders. “No problem,” the man mumbled after a time.  
  
“Like hell there’s no problem!” Ichigo snarled back. “You’ve been messing with me since the day I got here. And I’m sick of it!” Without thinking, he took a fighting stance. “So let’s go, let’s solve this here and now.”  
  
Renji turned around slowly. “You want to fight?” His eyes were narrowed into slits and Ichigo felt his cold stare like a slap to the face.  
  
“I want you to stop this dumb shit!” Ichigo rallied. “If this is the only thing that will make you stop, then let’s go already!”  
  
Then, Renji smiled. Ichigo would remember that smile forever. It was a mean smile, everything about Renji’s person radiated meanness at first, until you got to know him, but it also showed sincere enjoyment. From that moment on, Ichigo realized that Renji valued nothing more than the spirit of a good brawl.  
  
“Alright, let’s do this.” Renji shrugged off his jacket, still grinning devilishly. He took his own stance. “I’ll make you a deal. If you land even one scratch on me, I’ll call you the winner and I’ll leave you alone for good. Sound fair?”  
  
“Works for me,” Ichigo answered, tightening his hands into fists. He was used to this too, he had more than his fair share of fights in high school. Back home in Karakura Town, fists solved most disputes.  
  
Not caring about who went first, Ichigo took the offensive right from the start and aimed a punch directly at Renji’s smug, tattooed face. He met nothing but air. Annoyed, Ichigo aimed more punches at Renji, throwing them in any direction he could, planning to connect sooner or later. But Renji dodged everything Ichigo threw at him. That was nothing less than infuriating, honestly.  
  
Eventually, Renji actually caught one of Ichigo’s punches, grabbing the young man’s fist in midair and landing his own rough, unhindered punch directly to Ichigo’s chest.  
  
Surprised and hurt, Ichigo stumbled backward. He coughed for a while; Renji’s punch had knocked the wind clear out of him. For a second he thought he even tasted blood--didn’t even want to think about where in his body that blood might be coming from. Ichigo clutched at his chest, resting on his hands and knees against the pavement.  
  
Renji laughed, shaking his head. “Is that all you got? One punch, that’s it?”  
  
Hearing the taunt, Ichigo knew that he was not done yet. Not by a long shot. He fixed Renji with a cold stare of his own, chocolate eyes honing in on the man he now wanted to see doubled over in pain, just like Ichigo had done.  
  
“You wish,” Ichigo huffed out, straightening up and taking another stance.  
  
Renji raised his eyebrows and nodded, looking genuinely impressed for a moment. “Alright, you got sand, I’ll give you that. But I still ain’t got a scratch on me.”  
  
“Not yet,” Ichigo said under his breath.  
  
He wasted no time taking the offensive and rushing in again, this time opting for a feint with the left followed by a jab from the right. Renji dodged and brushed Ichigo’s right hook away with his forearm. Still not hurt, but at least the man was fighting for real now.  
  
They fought for a few minutes, but Ichigo honestly lost track of time. For those minutes, the only thing in his head was the fight, was Renji, who seemed to be dodging slower and slower the more Ichigo bombarded him with punches... Finally, Ichigo moved in close--closer than he had ever really done with someone he fought--and head-butted Renji right in the nose.  
  
Crying out, Renji stumbled backward and grabbed his face. Ichigo was a little dizzy from using his head to land that hit, but it was well worth it to see Renji’s eyes closed in pain, blood gushing from underneath his hand.  
  
Out of breath, but very satisfied, Ichigo stood up tall and smiled. “I call that a scratch,” he said.  
  
Renji opened his eyes. For a moment his pupils narrowed down to dots. Then, his face seemed to relax and he straightened up. Blood was still rushing from his nose, trailing between his fingers, but Renji seemed not to notice. In fact...was that another smile?  
  
“Heh, barely,” the red-haired man scoffed, voice nasally and muffled from his obvious injury. “I’ve been hurt worse than this from kids half your age. But, a deal’s a deal. You win.”  
  
Ichigo’s smile broadened. A well-earned sense of victory swelled in his chest and for a moment he wanted to laugh in the older man’s face. But instead, Ichigo saw an opportunity.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Ichigo asked, smirking now. “Well at least you know when to quit. I’m sure you’re tired of getting your ass kicked by kids half my age, anyway.”  
  
Then Ichigo reached into his backpack for the bundle of tissues he kept there. Approaching Renji confidently, the orange-haired man slowly pushed Renji’s hand away from his face, touching his wrist lightly. For his part, the older man stood still and watched Ichigo curiously, smile completely gone from his face.  
  
“It’s not broken or anything,” Ichigo said, inspecting the swollen but intact nose in front of him. He brought the tissues up and held them against the rush of blood.  
  
Renji flinched when Ichigo touched his face. Ichigo thought he must have hurt the older man by mistake, and he noticed that Renji’s face was slightly redder than before, probably royally pissed off now...  
  
Feeling suddenly self-conscious about how close they were, Ichigo pulled back. Renji grabbed the tissues and swatted the younger man’s hand away.  
  
“I got it,” the tattooed man said haughtily, eyes darting to the side.  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” Ichigo replied, looking down at his feet awkwardly. “So...we’re good?”  
  
Renji nodded. “We’re good.”  
  
Ichigo nodded back, feeling strangely unsatisfied. Where did they go from here? A few minutes ago, Ichigo would have been happy if Renji just left him alone for good, never speaking to him or interacting with him again. But now...that just seemed annoying.  
  
“So. Why were you on my case anyway?” Ichigo asked, watching Renji roll up the tissues to stuff into his nostrils.  
  
That’s when Ichigo learned the story. It took a while for Renji’s eyes to meet his own, but when they did, Ichigo knew that they were no longer enemies. When it was time to go home, Ichigo just threw out without thinking, “Hey, where do you live anyway?”  
  
That night, for first time, they walked their bikes together for a few blocks before branching off to go their separate ways.  
  
“You working tomorrow?” Renji called out, strapping his helmet on as he balanced the bike from his seat. The tissues were still balled up and stuffed in nose, reddened by blood, but casually forgotten by now.  
  
“Yeah, I’m on at 7:00,” Ichigo replied.  
  
Renji nodded. “Guess we’re stuck together then. See you tomorrow, pussy.”  
  
Ichigo didn’t know how to respond so he stood there wide-eyed and slack-jawed for a moment. Only after Renji had pedaled half a block away did Ichigo call out, “I’m no pussy! Make sure your nose heals before you get into any more fights with ten year olds...!”  
  
Renji raised a hand as a form of wave, not bothering to turn around, but showing that he had heard.  
  
Starting the next day, Renji and Ichigo worked together without hating each other. That was not to say that it was peaceful. Not at all. Renji still hip-checked Ichigo while he was washing dishes, bumped into him hard while the younger man was carrying dishes, just to see him struggle to regain his careful balance. But now, Renji laughed in good humor when Ichigo elbowed him back or splashed dirty water on him in retaliation. Renji would swipe Ichigo’s clean apron in the morning, forcing the younger man to put on a dirty one in frustration, only to throw the clean one back in his face right before the shift started. Ichigo would call him an asshole, quickly changing into the clean apron, but Renji would just laugh and remind him not to leave it laying around where anyone could take it. Common sense, after all.  
  
Their coworkers noticed right away that something was different. A little unnerved, they moved cautiously around the pair for a while, waiting for the animosity to explode in a fight, but it never did. Eventually, the manager just decided to continue scheduling them both at the same time because she found that they actually got a lot more work done when they were together. Whether it was a contest to see who could get the most dishes done in five minutes, or a race to see who could mop the floors faster, the manager liked how the restaurant operated when Renji and Ichigo worked the same shifts.  
  
So it was that they were always at work together. As time went on, it seemed natural for them to start playing basketball together after work (which started with, “Hey Ichigo, I bet I could beat you 7 to 0 in a one-on-one, ten minutes flat.” “You’re on, asshole, no way you could play a full offense game like that,”). From there, it seemed obvious that they would meet up on their days off to hang out, walking around town or playing video games in Renji’s apartment. They spotted each other at the gym sometimes, training to get in shape, sparring for fun. It was all a regular thing.  
  
After about two years of working together at the restaurant, Ichigo could not remember how long Renji had felt like his best friend.  
  
But he could remember, quite clearly, when he started being attracted to him.  
  
It occurred to him out of nowhere, but so obviously that Ichigo had been fighting back his thoughts for what felt like forever now. One day, while he was doing dishes, Renji came up behind him, squishing Ichigo up against the sink with his body as he pointedly took a long time to reach the plates above his head.  
  
Ichigo squirmed as he felt the entire length of Renji’s front body pressed up against him. At first it was just plain uncomfortable, another one of Renji’s annoying tactics for attention, but when Ichigo tried to fight back, wiggling against him in an annoyed way and finding himself trapped, there was...something else.  
  
Ichigo remembered feeling hot all of a sudden, sweating even, despite the fact that he had been fine earlier. He pushed back harder against Renji but still could not get free. Feeling strange tension slither across his skin, Ichigo started wriggling harder instinctively. When he felt a lump of soft flesh against the small of his back, in such an obvious place that Ichigo knew right away what it was, Ichigo felt his breath catch in his throat. All of a sudden, he wanted to lean back against Renji, let the older man wrap his arms around him or do whatever he wanted...in a second, Ichigo’s cock twitched to life and a tell-tale heat coiled tightly in his stomach.  
  
Flailing, Ichigo elbowed Renji hard in the stomach and broke free. He could feel that his face was bright red, but Ichigo tried to keep the front of his pants pressed against the counter so that Renji could not see the other problem.  
  
“Oww...” Renji coughed, holding onto his stomach. He regarded Ichigo with a soft smile. “Relax, sweetheart, I was just getting the dishes. No need to get squeamish.”  
  
“Whatever, dude, you’re weird sometimes...” Ichigo said lamely, not daring to turn around. He pushed down all of his feelings and concentrated unnecessarily hard on washing the dishes. Renji walked away, throwing his hands up in the arm with a smirk, but Ichigo had been left with a lot to work through.  
  
That night, instead of thinking about bits of porn he had seen online, or famous actresses, or women in dresses with big breasts he had seen on the street, Ichigo jerked off while thinking about Renji...the familiar smell of him so close, big hands latched onto his hips, that soft lump of flesh turning hard...  
  
From then on, Ichigo had to live with the fact that he had made himself come thinking about his best guy friend. Not only that, the thoughts seemed to get worse after that. Ichigo began noticing Renji in a different way, watching with appreciation the gleam of sweat on his black tattooed flesh as Renji slaved away against a hot stove, the twitch of his shoulder muscles when he played basketball, the way he held himself on a daily basis...all things that would linger with Ichigo until he was alone at night to safely bring himself off, alone.  
  
It was not something he was alright with, not something he had ever even admitted aloud. As far as Ichigo was concerned, he was just over tired and thinking about something friendly and familiar...or...something. But, Ichigo knew he wasn’t gay. He had had girlfriends in high school. Plenty of girls had been interested in him and that had felt great. Now that he was in college, it was different, harder to meet girls in this strange city where the codes of conduct differed depending on who you talked to and where they had come from in life. So Ichigo had been alone for a while. That had to have something to do with the fact that, instead of anyone else, Ichigo’s thoughts always turned to Renji at night...  
  
But it didn’t matter, really. Ichigo had no intention of ever doing anything about it. After all, thoughts were thoughts, dreams were random fantasies, reality was a different thing. Ichigo had control over reality. A little, anyway.  
  
Ichigo braked hard as he pulled up alongside the restaurant. It was rounding 6:30, his shift would start in fifteen minutes. As he locked his bike, Ichigo caught sight of the familiar beige and red bike in the corner, Renji’s bike. Looked like his friend had gotten to work early for some reason.  
  
Walking through the restaurant, waving a casual hello to his coworkers, Ichigo headed straight for the kitchen at the back. He lifted the curtain separating the cooking and washing space from the rest of the place, surprised to see Renji sitting on a stool with a book in his hand. Not to say that his friend was illiterate, or even unusual in any way, but Ichigo had never seen Renji read or write. The job didn’t require it, as far as Ichigo knew Renji wasn’t in school, so it had never come up.  
  
Renji had buried his hands deep in his hair, frowning hard over a page in the book. He didn’t even notice Ichigo come up alongside him. For a few seconds, Ichigo considered his options on how he could mess with the man, but decided that it was too interesting to learn what he was even doing.  
  
Lifting the front cover unceremoniously, Ichigo peered at the title, saying loudly, “Hey, whatcha reading?”  
  
Renji’s pencil wrote a straight line down the page accidentally, jumping slightly in his seat. Ichigo had never successfully startled Renji before so he felt a small triumph at that.  
  
“Come on, Ich, you made me mess up,” Renji said, annoyed. He erased the mark furiously.  
  
Ichigo read the letters in the title: GED Test Prep.  
  
“So, you studying all of a sudden?” Ichigo said, forgetting for a second what the letters stood for, what they meant.  
  
“Yeah, like it’s any of your business,” Renji snapped, flipping the workbook closed and stuffing it under the seat.  
  
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Ichigo said with a laugh, getting started on wiping down the counters.  
  
Renji stretched and yawned. He tucked his pencil away in the pocket of his apron. “Shifts start so damn early, how’s a guy supposed to get any studying done around here?”  
  
Ichigo shrugged, smiling. “You don’t like it, better take it up with the boss.”  
  
“Yeah right. Like Shihoin would care that I got work to do besides this.”  
  
“Yeah, I doubt it,” Ichigo replied. “She threw one of my textbooks into a bowl of rice noodles the last time she caught me trying to get a few assignments done in here.”  
  
Renji laughed at the memory. “Oh yeah, how could I forget that. You were peeling noodles off that book for a while after that.”  
  
“What could I do, those books aren’t cheap! But yeah, the smell never quite wore off.”  
  
The work day started after that in its usual way. Renji and Ichigo worked a long, busy shift, until it was nearing 5:00 in the afternoon.  
  
As the day drew to a close, Ichigo and Renji sat next to each other in the kitchen, staring at the last of the pots and pans they needed to clean up. Ichigo had spent most of the day trying to remember what GED stood for. All those damn pre-med classes had filled his head with so much other knowledge that he sometimes could not remember simple things he used to know...  
  
Then it hit him. GED, General Education Development or Diploma or something. It was the High School Equivalency exam, the test you took when you didn’t graduate from high school or had never gone. That’s what Renji was studying for.  
  
“So, when’s the test?” Ichigo asked casually.  
  
Renji was a quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Who knows. I’m not registered for it yet. Just seeing if I can pass it without taking a class.”  
  
“That’s smart,” Ichigo said, sincerely. He looked over at Renji. The man was sitting on the stool with his hands on his chest, legs spread out in front of him, eyes closed. He looked like the picture of relaxation, but Ichigo knew something was going on.  
  
Renji had never talked much about his history, but Ichigo knew a little bit. After all, he had been to Renji’s apartment. The man lived in a public housing project, in a neighborhood uptown. As far as Ichigo knew, Renji had lived alone for a long time. He qualified for public housing, his only job was the restaurant after all, and Ichigo knew that Renji paid on a sliding scale, so he made rent but just barely.  
  
“So...you dropped out of high school?” Ichigo asked. He didn’t know if he was being too straightforward or what, but this was Renji after all. He could ask, right?  
  
“Nope,” Renji replied, eyes still closed. “Never went. I dropped out in middle school, my friend.”  
  
“Oh,” Ichigo replied. That young? It was a little surprising, and it made Ichigo think how little he actually knew about Renji.  
  
There was a moment of silence, the sound of Shihoin counting the rest of the change in register at the front.  
  
Ichigo realized that he wanted to help. Not like Renji needed any help, but Ichigo had a sudden intense desire to see Renji be successful at this. That was the image he had in his mind of Renji, a guy who could do whatever he wanted, because he worked hard and knew how to make that pay off. So if passing this test was important to him, Ichigo wanted to help out, even in a small way.  
  
“Hey, so,” he began suddenly, “If you need a place to study, you could come to my place. I got a desk there. It’s not big, but there’s room for both of us if one of us sits on the bed.”  
  
Renji opened one eye and stared at him. “Your place is open for business? Hell yeah I’m coming over. This I have to see.”  
  
Out of semi-embarrassment, Ichigo had never invited Renji over to his place before. The young man was not sure what embarrassed him exactly, the fact that his apartment was more run-down than Renji’s, or the fact that his apartment was the place where Ichigo went primarily to jerk off thinking about...  
  
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ichigo said. “It’s just quiet. That’s about all my place has to offer at this point.”  
  
“Works for me,” Renji replied, sitting up straight. “Better than I can say for my place. Lady next door has a new baby and the family upstairs has a zumba-off every night. Or whatever it is they do to make all that stomping and noise happen.”  
  
Ichigo nodded. “Yeah, I know. Well, we can go to my place, and maybe see if you can get into the library at my school...I don’t know how that works, but I’ll find out.”  
  
Renji raised his thumb in approval. “Sure thing. Thanks, man.”  
  
Ichigo looked over to say no problem, but he when he turned to Renji he found the man staring at him intensely. Their eyes met and Ichigo just stared back, unsure what to do, what that confident smile his friend was giving him meant...he felt himself turning red, a tingling sensation that travelled down his face and into his neck...  
  
Then, the moment was thankfully shattered as Renji laughed out loud. “Look at you,” he said, wrapping a sweaty arm around Ichigo’s shoulders. “Taking care of me and shit. I’m going to start calling you Uncle Ichigo soon...”  
  
Blushing all the way to his ears, Ichigo pushed Renji away. “Yeah, right. You’re old enough to be my dad probably.”  
  
“Oh you think so?” Renji said, hands on his hips. “Must have a really young dad. I’m only a little older than you, dumbass.”  
  
“Whatever,” Ichigo said, standing up. “Let’s just close up for the night.”  
  
“So I’m coming over now, then,” Renji asserted, standing up with a stretch.  
  
“What?!” Ichigo replied. “Not now! I’ve got...you know, things to do first!”  
  
“Oh, I see,” Renji said, running a hand over his chin. “You want to make your place all nice and special for me before I see it. That’s fair. Make sure you clean it real good because I’m going to check when I come over...”  
  
“Fine, let’s call this off, then!”  
  
“Hell no! This is happening now that you said something...”  
  
So, the two of them bickered about it for the rest of the shift. Ichigo was not sure if he made the right decision, but Renji followed him home on his bike all the same. Ichigo wondered at Renji’s ability to tail people on a bike, but ultimately they ended up racing to his apartment building.  
  
Outside, the lights in the city were beginning to turn on, some stores were beginning to close, some restaurants and bars were beginning to open. The general chaos of the streets seemed to mesh into the background as Ichigo felt his heart racing the faster he pedaled.  
  
Renji was going to see his apartment. That wasn’t...bad, right? It was normal.  
  
But damn it, Ichigo was nervous.  



	2. Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo finds himself in a bigger mess than he planned, on several fronts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter, finally! It took me a lot of time to plan out where I wanted to go with this, but now I feel happy with it, and excited for the next part :)
> 
> Enjoy!

It was already dark and well into the night by the time Ichigo and Renji got to the apartment. Ichigo was quiet, even though Renji teased him the whole time about how carefully he locked up his bike, how delicately he opened the lock to the door, general insults that usually would have made Ichigo laugh.  
  
But he realized now that his hands were sweaty, his heart racing. They walked up the stairs to his apartment with Renji sniggering in good humor, Ichigo trying to get himself to focus. After all, what did he have to be nervous about? He lived in this damn place, nothing too weird about living somewhere...  
  
Just as long as he remembered to clean up his sheets from last night...  
  
Panic shot through Ichigo as he remembered that. Had he remembered to clean the sheets after? Probably not, why would he after all... Not good. Jesus, now Renji might see the way his bed looked after he got himself off...That was probably the last thing Ichigo needed.  
  
When they got to the door, Ichigo opened it and barged through the door unceremoniously. He marched straight to his bed and threw the bedspread over his sheets, frantically hoping to cover any lingering stains.  
  
“Uh, Ich, you...going to turn on the lights?”  
  
Renji still stood in the doorway. Ichigo turned to him and realized they were standing in the dark. He had neglected to turn on the lights in his haste to cover up his bed...great, now he just looked like a weirdo.  
  
“Oh. Right, sure.” Ichigo flipped the switch and the bare bulb in the ceiling illuminated his small studio apartment in dingy yellow light.  
  
For once, Renji was completely silent. He turned his head around a few times to take in the entirety of the place, saying nothing. Then he looked up at the ceiling, staring confusedly at the lightbulb hanging by itself.  
  
“You know, you could put a fixture or something up there, make the light a little less harsh,” the red-haired man said casually.  
  
Ichigo sputtered out a laugh. “Are you kidding? What are you, an interior decorator or something?”  
  
Renji smiled and shrugged. “I’m just saying. Don’t know how you stand the light like this, it’s so grainy and weird.”  
  
With that, Renji invited himself further in and plopped down on Ichigo’s narrow bed. For his part, Ichigo tried to stifle the surge of panic he felt at seeing Renji on his bed like that, so close to the thing he was trying to hide...  
  
“So!” Renji began, stretching out on the bed like a comfortable cat. “What are we here to do again? I forget now that I’m seeing your place for the first time. It’s pretty comfortable, Ich, I’ll give you that.”  
  
Shaking his head, Ichigo pulled up the chair from his desk and sat with his legs straddling the back. “We’re here to study, dumbass. If you still want to you.”  
  
“ ‘Course I still want to.” Still, Renji closed his eyes and settled in more on Ichigo’s bed. “What else would we be doing anyway?”  
  
Letting that last comment go, Ichigo turned around to his textbooks. He flipped through the pages and opened to the last section he had read.  
  
“Well, this is what I got to learn tonight,” Ichigo announced, turning back to his friend. “What about you, where’s that book you were reading?”  
  
“Right here.” Renji fished the test prep book out of his sweatshirt pocket.  
  
“Let me see that for a second,” Ichigo said, reaching over to grab the book.  
  
Flipping through a few of the pages, the pre-med student could not help but be surprised at the confusing way some of the questions were worded. He had to read a few of the questions several times to understand what was being asked.  
  
“Hey, Renj, some of this looks pretty hard. When did you say the test was again?”  
  
Renji sat up on the bed, looking around in agitation. “I didn’t say. There’s four tests, one in each subject, I haven’t registered yet.”  
  
“Oh ok...” Ichigo glanced away. He wanted to tell Renji that he probably needed to take a class, but he didn’t want that to come out sounding like an insult.  
  
Finally he settled on, “Alright, well if you’re going to pass any of them then we better start studying! Here, take the practice test and I’ll quiz you.”  
  
So, the two of them passed the night like that. Ichigo found it was easy to throw himself back into high school-type work, but he also hated the memories all the same. Like most people, Ichigo had no desire to relive high school.  
  
But then Renji had never actually gone...? That was a question for another time.  
  
After a few hours of studying, they both fell into silence. Ichigo did not even bother to question how natural it felt having Renji there. Honestly, he could not remember why he had fought inviting him for so long...well, he could remember, it was out of embarrassment, but over what? Here was Renji, sitting comfortably on his bed, laughing and talking like always.  
  
In a way, Renji’s presence there made the small apartment feel more relaxed, more lived-in...more like home.  
  
Out of the blue, Renji startled Ichigo by asking, “Oh hey, didn’t you have any studying to do?”  
  
“Oh, shit!” Ice ran through Ichigo’s veins as he remembered his midterms for the first time that night. “Damn it, I totally forgot.”  
  
“No worries,” Renji said casually, standing up and stretching. “Let’s switch. You take the test and I’ll quiz you this time.”  
  
“It...doesn’t really work like that,” Ichigo replied, fixing his eyes on the ground to avoid staring at the small bit of skin peeking out from underneath Renji’s shirt as he stretched.  
  
“No? Well let me just take a look...”  
  
With that, Renji reached right across Ichigo’s chest to get to the textbook on his desk. Not caring about the proximity, Renji grabbed the back of Ichigo’s chair and used it as leverage to pull himself forward. As a result, Renji basically pushed his chest into Ichigo’s face. Before he could move, Ichigo got a face-full of Renji’s hard-toned skin, along with a strong whiff of his cologne mixed with the sweaty scent of a full workday.  
  
The pre-med student felt a blush travel all the way down his body. He stood up with a shout, shoving Renji backward. Thankfully, Renji landed on the bed, but he completely lost his balance when Ichigo jumped to his feet. So, the red-head lay in surprised heap on his back.  
  
Breathing heavily, Ichigo stood over Renji, fighting back his obvious blush and trying to think of a way to recover from that strong reaction. What excuse was there?  
  
Slowly, Renji sat up still staring at him. It seemed almost like he was ready for a fight.  
  
They stared each other down for a few seconds. The tense silence was more painful than anything, it felt.  
  
Eventually, Renji raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Take it easy, man.”  
  
Ichigo shook his head. “...Sorry...” he muttered.  
  
“Listen, you’ve been jumpy lately.” Renji’s face was serious but he was looking away from Ichigo, not making eye contact. “Are you...ok?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ichigo started to say. Then he had to add something else to seem normal. “It’s just...sometimes you’re too close to me, you know?”  
  
Yikes. He had not meant to say that or go there. But, in a way, it was the truth. Ichigo figured part of his problem was that Renji couldn’t keep his distance. After all, everything started that day when the red-head came up behind him and...yeah.  
  
“Too close?” Renji asked, his facing turning sharply in Ichigo’s direction but still not meeting his eyes.  
  
“Yeah, like...I mean, just give me some space, ok?” Ichigo was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, well aware that he was making a mess of things and that his blush was going nowhere.  
  
After a tense second, Renji nodded. “Alright, you need your space I guess. Maybe we have been spending too much time together...”  
  
“No, it’s not that.” Then...what was it? “Just...why do you always have to get so close to me, man?”  
  
Renji looked up at Ichigo for the first time, the beginnings of a fight clear on his face. “What, you mean like, right now I’m too close to you?”  
  
With that, Renji stepped up to Ichigo so that they were face to face, Renji standing completely in Ichigo’s way. Clearly invading his boundaries, the older man was asking for a fight.  
  
Ichigo did not want to fight, had not intended for the night to end like this. But, the more that Renji stood there, invading his space and taunting him, the more frustrated the orange-haired man became. Who the hell did Renji think he was, stepping up to him after everything--after being the one who...the person that Ichigo wanted to...  
  
With an angry grunt, Ichigo shoved his shoulder against Renji, pushing them apart. “Yeah, like that. You’re too goddamn close to me sometimes Renji! It’s weird!”  
  
“What’s weird?” Renji asked, smiling now and rubbing his chest where Ichigo had shoved him. “Why are you so edgy about people getting in your space? You insecure about something?”  
  
“No, just...” But that was the line. Ichigo had run out of things to say.    
  
Eventually, Renji shrugged his shoulders. “I get it, you got a lot of work to do. I’ll get out of your way.”  
  
Picking up his test prep book, Renji shoved past Ichigo on his way to the door.  
  
“Look, Renji...” Ichigo began, trying to think of a way to fix things without admitting anything.  
  
But Renji had already opened the door. Like he had after their first fight, he raised his arm in recognition without turning around, walking out without saying another word.  
  
Once he was gone, the apartment was silent and empty. Ichigo felt rage and frustration bursting at his seams. With a growl, he punched the wall next to his bathroom. He didn’t even feel the pain in his hand because his mind was running a mile a minute trying to decide if he had ruined things with Renji forever, also trying to settle on whether or not that was a good thing, and trying to figure out whose fault it was in the first place...  
  
Feeling weary, like the events of the night had made it just that much harder to keep going in the morning, Ichigo sighed heavily. Closing his eyes, the young man sat on his bed, giving up briefly on trying to sort it all out. He planted his hands on either side of his body, when he suddenly registered soft cotton on his hand where usually there was only his sheets...  
  
Looking down, Ichigo realized that Renji had left his sweater on the bed. A second of worry flashed through the young man, thinking about Renji riding all the way home on his bike without his sweatshirt, probably would be cold and then would blame Ichigo if he got sick.  
  
Ichigo grabbed the sweatshirt with the intent to follow after Renji and bring it to him, but it was probably already too late.  
  
So instead, Ichigo took the time to stare at the sweatshirt. It was gray, with the words “red pineapple” printed on the front in big letters. Who knew what that meant, a label no one had ever heard of or something.  
  
Still, it was weird. Renji wore that sweatshirt all the time, every other day it seemed like. Ichigo had seen it on him all over the place, like ti was a fixture of who he was. So, in a strange way, holding the sweatshirt was like holding a piece of Renji himself...  
  
Without thinking, Ichigo brought the sweatshirt to his face and inhaled. He hated himself for doing this, was very thankful suddenly that his window faced nothing but a brick wall so that he was for the moment totally out of sight.  
  
But still...that smell. Ichigo knew it so well, had had a face full of it just a moment ago. Renji wore a very distinct cologne, one Ichigo could not remember smelling anywhere else. The regular musk of the sweatshirt reminded Ichigo that this was something his friend wore often, which he already knew. As if on cue, his he felt blood rush to his cock, twitching slightly with the need to be touched.  
  
Alright. Ichigo knew where this was headed. If he could not avoid doing this, then he might as well get it over with. He was tired as fuck anyway.  
  
Wasting no time, Ichigo opened the front of his jeans and palmed himself through his boxers. He kept his face pressed against the sweatshirt, remembering what it felt like to be pushed up against Renji’s chest. Combining the smell and the memory felt almost like the real thing, and Ichigo could not help but moan a bit into the fabric.  
  
He knew what he wanted. Ichigo laid the sweatshirt flat on his bed and took off his pants. He badly wanted to turn off the lights so that he did not have to be reminded where he was, so he sprinted over to the light switch to cast the room into darkness. For some reason, he still felt silly walking around his room with no pants on, even though he was alone and still doing this thing in the first place.  
  
Now finally, Ichigo laid down against the sweatshirt, curling up to it instinctively. As he took in the smell and feel of it, the young man pumped his cock slowly, imagining that he was again pressed up against the warm, toned body of his friend. He sincerely hope Renji was not mad at him, he realized, he could not wait to see the older man again. To see his face, his smile...  
  
With that, Ichigo imagined he was laying on top of Renji. This time, in his mind Renji was not wearing anything. He had his arms folded behind his head nonchalantly, smirking down at Ichigo in his usual way. Running his mouth along the material of the sweatshirt, Ichigo imagined he was kissing Renji up and down his chest. As the image and sensations grew clearer, Ichigo found himself thrusting hard into his own fist, his hips moving with desperate determination. He did not even need to imagine what Renji looked like from the waist down, just the outline of his naked hips was enough to send Ichigo over the edge.  
  
Biting down on the collar of the sweatshirt, Ichigo came all over his hand, surprised by how intense it was. Ichigo was not a virgin, he had had sex with some girls in high school, but nowhere in his memory could he remember coming like that, almost violently.  
  
But maybe that was just the way it was when people masturbated, he thought.  
  
Rubbing his face against the sweatshirt one more time, wiping the remainder of his unmentionable tears into the fabric, Ichigo rolled over onto his back. He was well and truly exhausted now.  
  
Overall it had been kind of a crap night. He would have to figure out a way to make it up to Renji in the morning. But for now, he turned onto his side and let the familiar, comforting scent of his friend help him fall asleep.  
  
______________________________________________________________  
  
  
In the morning, Ichigo’s alarm clock got him up at 6:00 sharp like usual. This day though, he was fortunate enough not to have work. He had class in the middle of the day, but it was his day off from the restaurant.  
  
Rolling over onto his side, he decided to sleep a little later. As he slept, he unconsciously pulled the sweatshirt closer to him. By the time he finally woke up, a few hours later, Ichigo was embarrassingly wrapped up in the thing.  
  
The young man groaned and got out of bed. That was a weird night. He preferred not to think about it too much, probably a headache best saved for after his morning granola bar at least.  
  
It suddenly occurred to him that he had not checked the mail in a few days. Maybe there was a letter from his dad or his sisters in there, could not hurt to check. Yuzu always worried whenever he did not respond to her right away.  
  
He threw on some clothes and walked down to the small hallway that served as a mailroom in his building. The mailboxes were shoe-boxed sized, so receiving packages was tricky business, but Ichigo rarely mail-ordered stuff anyway. The only problem he had come across was the time someone had rigged his mailbox open with a rubber band and Ichigo had had to chase down the post office workers for receipts of his letters. But that was just the one time.  
  
Reading through his mail, Ichigo noticed an official-looking letter from his college. It looked like a typical form letter, yet it was addressed to him in typeface specifically, with the letter-head of the financial aid office in the corner. He had no idea what business they had with him, but rarely did good, stress-free things come out of the financial aid office.  
  
He ran up the stairs to his apartment, heart in his throat. Carefully unsealing the envelope (not wanting to damage an official documents by any chance), Ichigo read through the letter with trepidation.  
  
It felt like a bucket of water had just been thrown on him.  
  
Unpaid loans from last semester...immediate cancellation of all subsidized and non-subsidized financial aid...  
  
Shit.  
  
Ichigo read and reread the letter several times. Each time the information was the same. He had missed a payment on some of his back loans from the last semester, which meant that they were revoking his financial aid award, all his loans. That meant... how could he stay enrolled with nothing paying his bill?  
  
Fighting back a rush of tears, Ichigo sat down at his desk and tried to think. Who could he call? The financial aid office? And wait on hold for at least an hour. His father? But what help could his father give?  
  
He buried his fingers in his hair and gritted his teeth. What the hell was he supposed to do now?  
  
He really regretted his argument with Renji the night before. Right then, he wanted nothing else but to talk to his friend. Renji always seemed to have reasonable reactions to things. Nothing was ever the end of the world to Renji and that was comforting.  
  
Especially because right at that moment, Ichigo could not see a way out of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the next chapter. The reason I wanted to write this story. Can't wait!


	3. Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes getting by isn't as easy as it sounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. This ending took my forever to write. I had to rethink my planning and that was somehow I lot harder than I thought. It ended up being so long that I turned into two chapters and will post them both at once :) Hooray! So enjoy, there's a bit of angst here, promise not to hate me too much!

The spinning fans in the corner of the financial aid office weren’t enough. It was unseasonably warm that day, making the small room almost stiflingly hot. People standing in line were fanning themselves with documents or tissues, anything they had on hand. Staff working at the counters, behind thick plastic windows with a tiny slit at the bottom (making communication frustratingly difficult), were red faced and sweating.  
  
Ichigo had waited in line for close to an hour. He had already sweated through the old t-shirt he wore, making it stick to him uncomfortably, with dark patches of sweat showing on his chest and under his arms. His hindsight told him that he had picked a terrible day to appeal the financial aid office’s decision in person, but he was determined to get it done that day no matter what. It was his only day off from the restaurant.  
  
Finally it was his turn at the counter. A young woman called him over to her window. She was young, with dark skin and hair, probably a student herself employed on work-study funding. She was not smiling. It seemed like she had pulled her dark hair into a messy bun a long time ago. Hairs were falling out of the tie and sticking to her face and neck. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand in irritation.  
  
“Student ID number and the last four digits of your social,” she said in a flat tone.  
  
Ichigo gathered his courage and gave her the numbers. He had meant to start this differently, with a friendly hello and how are you, but the heat had brought them all past niceties at that point.  
  
“Kurosaki, Ichigo?” She asked, gazing at her computer screen indifferently.  
  
“Yeah, that’s me,” Ichigo replied, hoping his tone was somewhere near friendly.  
  
“So what do you need today?” the woman asked, her voice as uncaring as her face.  
  
“I got this letter saying my loans were revoked..?” He pulled out the letter and fed it through the window slot.  
  
The woman did not bother to take the letter. She glanced at the screen and nodded. “Yes, I see that your subsidized and unsubsidized loans were revoked it looks like...five days ago.”  
  
There was a brief silence where Ichigo expected her to explain something, but she did not. She merely looked back over at him, as if asking what else he needed to know.  
  
“So...I’m here to appeal the decision.” Ichigo said, feeling his temper rising at how that should have been obvious. He unconsciously pulled his shirt away from his chest to cool himself down.  
  
The woman did not so much as blink. “You have the form?”  
  
“Right here.” He pulled out the form for appealing a financial aid decision. He had attached a typed letter, explaining why he needed the funding and how he would repay his missed bills with interest. It was basically pleading, but Ichigo was not above that. That was the only move he had left.  
  
The woman glanced over the form. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll put this information into the system.”  
  
The two of them waited in silence as she typed on her computer, glancing down every now and then to make sure she was inputting the correct information.  
  
When she was done, she turned over the form to look at the letter. “Is this your letter of appeal?”  
  
“Yes,” Ichigo said hopefully. It was almost two pages long and he had spent a good amount of time trying to make sure it was worded the right way with everything he meant to say.  
  
She sighed. “Okay. I need you to sum this up in a paragraph or less so that I can type it directly into the system.”  
  
“Uh, well...” Ichigo felt panicked briefly as he was not sure he could do that on the spot. He pulled the letter out of the slot on the window, reading it over briefly to pull out the best parts.  
  
Ichigo read a few lines out of what he had written, hearing the woman typing what he was saying, giving time to make sure she was getting all of it.  
  
“...and...I will commit to paying the out of date bills with added interest,” he said at last, looking up at her hopefully.  
  
She typed for a while then looked back at him. “Okay. That’s a little long, but I got most of it in here.”  
  
“Great, thanks,” Ichigo said, honestly grateful.  
  
“Is there anything else you need today?”  
  
“Just...” Ichigo felt his heart sink. He had thought he would get an answer right away. That was a stupid idea. “When will I get an answer about the decision?”  
  
The woman sighed and wiped her forehead again. “Once the form is processed, the office will look over your information and make their decision. It will probably take about three to four days.”  
  
“That long?” Ichigo asked. “But...what am I supposed to do about classes in the meantime? I got another letter saying I was immediately withdrawn from everything I was taking...” He pulled out that letter and fed it through the window.  
  
Again, she did not look at this letter. “If you were withdrawn already then you are no longer enrolled and cannot go to your classes. You’ll have to wait until you hear about their decision to move forward with enrolling for next semester or getting your grades.”  
  
“My grades?!” Ichigo spat out, truly losing his temper now, which was not how he had wanted to do this. “I’ve already missed two midterms! There’s no way I’m passing this semester!”  
  
The woman shook her head and wiped the back of her neck. Her face showed severe tiredness when her hand came away soaked. She looked back at Ichigo with indifference, bordering on irritation.  
  
“You were withdrawn, so you’ll get a W on your transcript, not passing or failing. Again, you should hear from our office in about three to four days. You’ll either get a call to the number we have on file for you or a letter in the mail. Don’t bother checking your email, our system is outdated for sending form letters by email.”  
  
Ichigo stared at her blankly, feeling his rage dissolve into desperation.  
  
“Is there anything else?” she asked, looking over his shoulder and blinking slowly. “There’s a long line behind you, sir.”  
  
“Look, can you just...” Ichigo sighed. He felt frustrated tears pricking his eyes, so he squeezed them shut to push the tears down, passing a hand over his face.  
  
He decided to level with this woman. Looking her in the eyes, he began. “You’ve seen cases like this before, right? Is there any way you can tell me if I have chance of getting an appeal or not?”  
  
Pausing for a moment, she sighed again. “This happens to a lot of people, yes. I can tell you that, statistically speaking, it’s rare for the office to appeal a decision like this. They hardly ever give back loans they have taken away.”  
  
Ichigo looked at the floor, feeling all hope drain out of him.  
  
“I’m sorry, sir. Is that all?”  
  
Realizing there was no way he could hold back the tears now, Ichigo muttered a quick “Yeah that’s all” and rushed away from the window, out into the street and open air.  
  
Standing on the sidewalk in the heart of the busy city, Ichigo let himself cry silently. People jostled past him, not noticing or caring about the state he was in.  
  
It hardly mattered that he was drowning, Ichigo realized. How many hundreds of people had their dreams crushed every day in this town? He was no different, no better than them.  
  
Wiping his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, Ichigo let his feet carry him back to his apartment--the place he had two days left to vacate before his stuff would be considered illegally on the property of a school he did not belong to.  
  
___________________________________________________________________  
  
  
Ichigo spent the rest of the day packing his stuff into cardboard boxes and figuring out what his next move was going to be.  
  
Really, he did not own that much stuff. He just had his clothes (all of them fit into one medium sized box), his towels and bathroom supplies (small box), his hot plate and microwave (a large box). He was grateful for buying only a small microwave, it fit nicely next to the hot plate, even if the box was obnoxiously heavy. The mattress, bed frame, and lamps were all owned by the school, all he owned there were his bed sheets and pillow. Easy to pack.  
  
The only thing Ichigo hated to part with was his desk. He had saved up and bought this writing desk with his own money, elated by the prospect of owning something that was going to help him succeed at college. Now...what was supposed to do with it?  
  
Ichigo reasoned that if he sold all his textbooks, he could have enough to afford one night in a hotel (he had already researched a hotel uptown that was affordable, even if they rated piss poor on cleanliness and bed bug checks). He had returned his school laptop the day before, which meant he had gotten his security deposit back. That was another night in the hotel he could afford. After that, he would have to eat into his savings to stay afloat--a scary thought.  
  
As the day dwindled down to evening, Ichigo stopped packing for a minute to think. He looked longingly over at his desk. The small key on top of it caught his eye. Oh right, his bike. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?  
  
He had not gotten around to telling his father or his sisters about all this. What could he say? “Listen, I fucked up and now I’m kicked out of school”? “I know you wanted another doctor in the family, Dad, but looks like that’s not going to happen...”?  
  
Anger flooded him. How had he missed that bill? He was such an idiot sometimes. Bills and money were the most important thing about college, how had he been so careless?!  
  
The most important thing...  
  
Ichigo slammed his fist down on the desk. Maybe money ruled college, and he was shit out of luck because he had no money, but what could he expect from the rest of his life? How did he move on from this? How would he survive here?  
  
Feeling suddenly exhausted, Ichigo fell onto his sheet-less, pillow-less bed. He was too tired to think about anything. Panic had settled into his body so surely that he could barely feel any sensation outside of his own internal turmoil. Why was he so damn dizzy? When was the last time he had eaten...?  
  
Before he could figure out the answer to that question, he was asleep.  
  
________________________________________________________________  
  
  
The next day, his alarm got him up at 6:00, like any normal day. That reminded him, he needed to pack his alarm clock.  
  
Sitting up groggily, Ichigo dragged himself to his feet and tried to remember what he needed to do that day. His sleep the night before had felt like a blow to the head, like his thoughts were scrambled and unfocused now.  
  
Slowly, little by little, his panic from the last week settled back into him. Right. Today was the day he needed to make a lot of decisions...  
  
But all of that aside, he had work now. Ichigo had no plans of quitting his job at the restaurant. That was his only income. He needed to hold onto that job for dear life.  
  
So, he brushed off his clothes, not bothering to dig through the packed box for a new outfit, washed his face, and headed out the door. His ride through the city seemed strange. There was a weird tingling sensation in his head that he had never felt before. He had fallen down somehow...? He could not remember. Whatever. It was probably just a tension headache, he would not be surprised.  
  
Things had been awkward at work ever since he and Renji had their...fight, or whatever that was. It had been almost a week, but Renji and Ichigo were still scheduled for all the same shifts, so they saw each other every day at work. Renji had been giving him the cold shoulder the entire time.  
  
The first day after their fight, Ichigo had tried to apologize, going straight up to his friend and saying, “Look, I’m sorry about last night, I was just in a bad mood. You’re okay, right? Are we cool?”  
  
But Renji had given him a cold stare and said, “Save it.”  
  
Ichigo could not be sure why Renji was so upset by what had happened. Though honestly, no one liked to be told they were weird and got too close to people. Not exactly a compliment. Eventually, Ichigo accepted the fact that he had hurt Renji in some way and could only hope either to make up for it or for it to blow over.  
  
So far, the two had settled in a rhythm of being silent around each other. No playing around or joking, just doing their jobs. If they had to speak for work, they kept it short, “Could you pass the strainer?” “How many bowls do we have left?” That kind of thing.  
  
People around them had noticed, but neither of them cared to explain exactly what had happened. When asked, they just shrugged their shoulders or changed the subject.  
  
At this point, Ichigo was starting to think that maybe things would never get better. The thought cut him deeply. It felt like he had lost one of the best things that had ever happened to him, one of the best friends he had ever had, anyway. Aside from how awkward and weird he felt about his other feelings for Renji, Ichigo had never intended for them to stop being friends. Losing that now was...well, it made Ichigo feel almost like a zombie, like he was just going through the motions with his mind turned off, heart aching distantly.  
  
That day at work, Ichigo went about his job in silence. It was his lunch break before Ichigo realized he had not spoken to even one person the whole time, had just been standing in front of the sink washing dishes like a robot. The thought was kind of creepy actually and he was a little embarrassed about himself.  
  
But so what. Why did it matter?  
  
Sitting outside in the alley towards the back of the restaurant, Ichigo leaned his head against the wall and tried to gather his thoughts. He really felt sluggish today. The nagging pain in his head had not gone away and he had to be careful not to turn his head too fast or he would get dangerously dizzy.  
  
What was the problem, anyway? Maybe he was dying now, on top of everything else? Some kind of terminal illness...?  
  
“Hey, pussy.”  
  
Ichigo turned his head sharply towards the voice, instantly regretting it and feeling a lurch in his stomach. Looking at the shadow, he could tell it was Renji standing over him.  
  
“...Hey...” Ichigo said warily.  
  
“Here, take this.” Renji handed him a styrofoam box filled with something warm.  
  
His brain could not quite process what it was, so Ichigo opened it slowly. When he did, a delicious smell of fresh fried dumplings washed over him. He almost sighed when he realized it was food. His stomach growled loudly.  
  
Oh, that explained it. Ichigo thought back and realized he had not eaten at all yesterday, could not remember the last time he had eaten before that. Must have been the granola bar he had for breakfast the day before.  
  
Suddenly recognizing his ravenous hunger, Ichigo barely mumbled a thanks before shoving a dumpling into his mouth.  
  
“Yeah,” Renji replied, taking a seat against the wall next to Ichigo. “Just don’t tell Shihoin. You know how she gets when we take some food for ourselves before closing time.”  
  
Ichigo nodded, forcibly reminding himself to chew the food before swallowing so that he would not choke.  
  
“Hey, slow down there,” Renji admonished. Then he chuckled. “Heh, I knew you were hungry.”  
  
Ichigo swallowed. He looked cautiously over at his friend. “You were right,” he said. Taking smaller bites of the dumplings, Ichigo continued by saying. “You’re always right, you know that?”  
  
Renji laughed. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
The two of them sat in silence until Ichigo was done eating. Renji quietly lit a cigarette while he waited, taking long, slow drags and blowing the smoke away from where they were sitting. Ichigo did not smoke, but he did not mind that Renji did.  
  
When he was finished, Ichigo licked his fingers and leaned his head against the wall again. His head was still swimming, but he was starting to feel blood flowing in his hands and feet again, his stomach contentedly full.    
  
“Thanks again,” Ichigo said, looking back at the red-head. “I...didn’t even realize how hungry I was back there.”  
  
Renji exhaled some smoke. “Gotta take better care of yourself, man.”  
  
“I guess.” Taking care of himself had been pretty low on the priority list lately. Plus that advice came from a man who was currently smoking, so they were probably both failures in that department.  
  
So, Ichigo thought, Renji had given him food, was talking to him and sitting next to him casually. Where did this leave them?  
  
“Listen...” Ichigo began. He needed to give it another shot. “...Renji, you have to know I’m sorry about what happened the other night. I didn’t mean--”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Renji pressed his cigarette against the ground to put it out. He rolled the remains between his fingers absentmindedly. “I’ve been kind of an asshole since then, so...Not to mention, you’ve been walking around this place like a sad puppy for the past few days, so I figure you learned your lesson.”  
  
Renji looked over at the younger man and smirked. Ichigo could not remember the last time he felt so relieved.  
  
A smile broke out onto Ichigo’s face. “Right again. Especially about the part where you’re an asshole.”  
  
Renji smiled and tossed his cigarette butt into a nearby garbage can. “Can’t deny it!” he replied, almost cheerfully.  
  
So it was clear that they were friends again. Ichigo felt like some of the weight on his shoulders had been lifted. His head was feeling much better now, but he was starting to feel a little sleepy. His immediate urge was to lean his head against Renji’s shoulder and take five minutes to close his eyes.  
  
Luckily, he caught himself before his head actually landed on Renji’s shoulder. He sat upright immediately. Way too close there.  
  
But being around Renji again was making him feel warm, like there was a small fire in his chest that had been lit again. Ichigo decided not to think too hard about the feeling.  
  
“So, what are you doing tonight?”  
  
The question startled Ichigo out of his thoughts. Renji was already fishing around for another cigarette.  
  
“Uh, tonight?” Ichigo asked. He searched his memory for what was special about tonight. Tonight was the last night he had in his apartment before he had to vacate the premises completely...there was that...  
  
“Yeah. Hello, it’s Friday, you’re a young man, and the city is filled with endless possibilities?” Renji grinned deviously. “So what poor girl are you banging tonight?”  
  
As if.  
  
Ichigo burst out laughing. “Yeah, right. Sure, that’s my life.”  
  
“You mean it’s not?” Renji said with a laugh. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised. You know you’re kind of a high school choir boy, right?”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Ichigo asked indignantly.  
  
“Means you have no idea how to have a good time. You do know what sex is, right? Like I mean, besides what you’ve read in your med school books?”  
  
Ichigo blushed hard. “Wh-what?! Of course I do!”  
  
“Alright, alright.” Renji was clearly enjoying all this. “What about drinking? Adult alcohol I mean. How ‘bout drugs? A little ganj in your life?”  
  
By now Renji was laughing so hard his shoulders shook. Ichigo knew the man was making fun of him, but seeing Renji laugh like that was contagious so he could not help smiling along, even if he was a little offended.  
  
“Whatever, man,” Ichigo said, trying to play it off. “You don’t know what I do.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t?” Renji looked at him, losing none of that devilish gleam in his eyes. “That mean you’re into some really sick shit? Stuff I ain’t even heard of before?”  
  
“No!” Ichigo said immediately, before he could stop himself. Renji slapped his knees in amusement. Ichigo blushed harder and looked away.  
  
Well, no way to win when Renji was like this. Besides, in truth, Ichigo’s life was pretty vanilla. He hardly ever went out, could not remember the last time he was drunk, had never been high. He took college seriously. Or at least, he had...  
  
Remembering where he stood with his college education, Ichigo sighed deeply. Time to say goodbye to the rest of the future he had planned for himself.  
  
Renji stopped laughing. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll show you how to have a good time, alright? What do you say you come out with me tonight? I know a place uptown where the guy who works there let’s me drink for free because he owes me one. Sound good?”  
  
Obviously, Renji had no idea what was going on Ichigo’s life at that time. The former pre-med student had to clean his stuff out by tonight, no way he could go out.  
  
But then again...what did it matter? What did anything matter, after all? He had tried his best at school and look where that had gotten him. Not like they could penalize him anymore than they already had. Going out drinking might be the best way to relieve some of this agonizing stress. Besides, Ichigo was so happy Renji was interested in hanging out with him again, no way he would turn him down.  
  
“Yeah, alright,” Ichigo said, a small smile on his lips. “I’ll check it out with you.”  
  
“Good, good,” Renji replied. “Maybe we’ll make a man out of you tonight!”  
  
Then, the red-headed man leaned in to wrap an arm around Ichigo’s neck, pulling him in playfully. He mussed Ichigo’s hair before suddenly freezing and letting go.  
  
“Oh...sorry...” Renji muttered, moving away as if he had touched something he should not have. It seemed he remembered the last time he did something like that....  
  
Ichigo’s heart was pounding. He looked away, embarrassed. “It’s okay,” he said, even though he had no idea if it was or not.  
  
Awkwardness hung in the air between them, neither one sure how to move forward.  
  
Glancing around, Renji decided to look at his watch. “Oh shit! Our break was over fifteen minutes ago!”  
  
As if on cue, Shihoin opened the back door to the restaurant and shouted over at the two of them. “Hey, you bums! What do you think you’re doing sitting out here? You want me to give your jobs to someone else?”  
  
“No, ma’am!” They called back, scrambling to their feet and running back into the restaurant.  
  
Shihoin grinned, pleased at their succinct reply. “That’s better. Now let’s go! I’ve got a restaurant to run!”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue on to the last part!


	4. Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you move on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final part! It gets a bit deep here, also smutty. So be on the look out for both :)

Renji locked the door to the restaurant behind them. As usual, they were the last two left to close up the place. It was already after 10:00, they closed late on Fridays.  
  
“Are you sure I don’t need to change or something?” Ichigo asked. Renji had suggested they just go straight to the bar, not bothering to waste time going home beforehand.  
  
“ ‘Course,” Renji answered. “It’s not a fancy place or anything, man. Sorry you can’t wear that suit and tie you had waiting around.”  
  
“Alright, fine. Guess we’re going out smelling like Vietnamese leftovers.”  
  
“Trust me, could be much worse,” Renji said with a smile, strapping on his bike helmet. “Stick close to me, alright? Don’t want you pedaling off somewhere I don’t know.”  
  
The care Renji was showing him radiated throughout Ichigo, but he also felt slightly indignant that his friend was treating him like a kid.  
  
“Come on, I know how to ride a bike, Renji. Besides, I’m not some lost helpless kid in this city without you. I do know my way around.”  
  
“Sure, sure,” the red-head replied. With that, he pedaled off with a knowing smile and Ichigo followed behind him.  
  
Once they were riding, Ichigo could tell why Renji wanted him to stay close. The streets uptown seemed to be darker for some reason, certainly much wider. He had never really been uptown, first of all because he had no reason to go there, but also because of the rumors that it was somewhat sketchy (well, very sketchy the farther up you went). Ichigo suddenly regretted being a lawbreaker and not having a reflector on the front of his bike for visibility (damn thing had been smashed one day, he should have replaced it). Luckily, he could always keep track of Renji with his flaming red hair and beige bicycle. So, ignoring his preconceptions, Ichigo let himself enjoy the ride. He definitely felt a little more free now that he was leaving the denser, downtown parts of the city.  
  
The bar they arrived at was nothing special. It was a run of the mill sports bar, boasting nothing on the outside except empty seats and a working tap. Still, Renji seemed more than happy to be there, grinning wildly until they barged through the doors.  
  
The two of them took two seats at the bar. Renji ordered for Ichigo with a smile, not even bothering to ask. Two vodka tonics, one for each of them.  
  
Ichigo eyed the clear drink curiously. He was really mostly used to drinking beer, but he had definitely had vodka before...probably. Or was that gin? What was the difference?  
  
“It’s not going to bite you, kid,” Renji teased, taking a big gulp of his drink, ignoring the straw.  
  
“Yeah no shit...” Ichigo said quickly, taking out his own straw to match Renji.  
  
The younger man took a big swig of what was in his glass, only to spit most of it back moments later. He thought he was being discrete about it, but obviously Renji saw and wasted no time in laughing uproariously.  
  
Ichigo shook his head in honest surprise. “Damn, that’s pretty bitter...”  
  
“Yeah, that’s the taste of life, my friend,” the red-head commented. “No getting around it, might as well face it head on.” He took another big gulp, already halfway through his first drink.  
  
There was definitely something to be said for that logic. Still, Ichigo decided to take small sips at first to ease his way into it.  
  
“So!” Renji began. “This is about as packed as this place gets, as you can see.”  
  
He gestured to the bar around them. There were about five other people in total scattered around the place.  
  
“That’s...kind of sad, I guess,” Ichigo replied, not sure what to say.  
  
“Nah, not at all. I like it this way.”    
  
Finally, Ichigo saw a chance to get some shots in. “Not really a people person are you?”  
  
Renji laughed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”  
  
“Don’t know, maybe it’s the tattoos all over your face, or your shitty attitude, or the way I never see you hanging out with anyone but me...”  
  
“Alright, alright, princess,” Renji said, smirk suddenly gone from his face. He looked away for a moment and added, “Not like I ever see you hanging out with other people either.”  
  
Ichigo had nothing to say to that. Keen embarrassment hit him deep in his chest. What did that say about him....?  
  
“Besides,” Renji continued. “At least I got Rukia, a friend of mine from way back.”  
  
Ichigo jumped at the chance to change the subject. “Oh yeah, you mentioned her. So what is Rukia like, anyway?”  
  
The red-haired man shrugged. “We got a lot of history. She works in an office now, real nice. She’s doing well for herself, so, I’m...happy for her, I guess.”  
  
“You guess?”  
  
“...Yeah. It’s hard to really be happy for her maybe when it feels like she’s leaving me behind, but I get it. Hell, if I were her, I’d probably leave me behind too.”  
  
The way Renji said, so matter of fact, with pain woven through each word, left Ichigo speechless for a minute. It was like Renji accepted what he considered to be the truth, but could not deny that it hurt all the same.  
  
He drank his vodka silently.  
  
“Hey, what the hell are you talking about?” Ichigo hurried to say. “I’m sure Rukia still cares about you. Or at least still thinks about you. You’re a hard guy to forget after all.”  
  
“Heh, you can say that again.” Renji had finished his drink and was already ordering another one. Whiskey on the rocks.  
  
Ichigo was already feeling some of the alcohol. He chalked it up to not eating properly the last few days. He was starting to feel like it was the right time to ask more questions.  
  
“So...you said you guys had history?” the orange haired man started to say, trying to sound casual instead of insanely curious. “What do you mean by that?”  
  
The bartender brought Renji’s drink over to him, but the red head did not touch it at first. Instead he glanced over at Ichigo.  
  
“Yeah, we knew each other when we were kids.”  
  
There was a place to start. “So...did you grow up together, or...?”  
  
“Kind of. We were in the same foster home for a little bit.” Renji cupped his glass but made no move to bring it to his lips.  
  
Ichigo felt electricity run through his veins. Foster home? He had no idea Renji had grown up in foster care, had never known anyone else who had. Still, that had to be a fairly painful memory for him and Ichigo felt guilty for bringing it up.  
  
“Oh, sorry....” he said reflexively.  
  
“No worries,” Renji replied. “It was a long time ago. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to hide anything or whatever.”  
  
Ichigo took a bigger sip of his drink, feeling awkward. “Right.”  
  
Renji laid his palms flat on the bar. “And don’t go feeling weird about asking me stuff like that. I’m telling you, I got nothing to hide. Sometimes people act like I’m being all secretive or something, when really it’s just that they’re afraid to talk about it.”  
  
“That makes sense.”  
  
Renji looked over at him and smiled, a rare full smile. “You get it, right? You’re a smart kid.”  
  
The younger man clicked his tongue. “I’m not a kid. How old are you, anyway, gramps?”  
  
“Gramps?” Renji took a sip of his whiskey and laughed again. “Watch it there. I’m twenty-eight, you asshole.”  
  
“Really?” Ichigo cocked his head to one side mockingly. “I thought you would have been older than that...”  
  
“Well, all of my grizzly maturity aside, I really am only twenty-eight!”  
  
They both laughed at that. Ichigo was starting to feel really relaxed. He happened to glance over at the clock hanging on the wall.  
  
Shit, already after eleven.  
  
The orange haired man almost jumped off his stool. “Ah, I really should be going, I guess....”  
  
“What’s your hurry? You haven’t even finished one drink!” Renji was eyeing him intensely.  
  
“No, it’s cool, you can have the rest of mine, I really have to--”  
  
“So.” Renji cut him off and moved closer to him, resettling his stool so that their elbows were almost touching. Ichigo immediately felt his heart race at the proximity, but his confusion won out and he held his ground.  
  
Renji stared at Ichigo, boring into his eyes with his gaze, as if the tattooed man were trying to read Ichigo’s very thoughts.  
  
Finally, he said, “Are you going to tell me what this is? Or not?”  
  
“Uh...what are you talking about...?” Ichigo knew he was blushing again. This? Did Renji mean...?  
  
“I’m talking about this!” Renji gestured to Ichigo’s face and body. “I told you, you’ve been off all week, everyone’s noticed. And my head’s not far enough up my ass for me to think that it’s all because of me. What’s going on with you, Ich?”  
  
Oh. So...the truth, then.  
  
“It’s nothing.” Ichigo needed to look away. He couldn’t look Renji in the eye and say that.  
  
After a tense second, Renji sighed. “So that’s your thing.”  
  
“What?” Ichigo turned back to him sharply. Renji was already calmly sipping his whiskey again.  
  
The older man wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and continued. “Everyone’s got a thing. Some shit they’re weird about. You’re weird about how you feel.”  
  
Hearing Renji so easily make that realization shocked the younger man. Especially because Ichigo himself had never put that into words. Which was...probably part of the problem.  
  
“Why do you gotta deny stuff like that, man? That’s the shit that will make you insane.” Renji put down his glass, still mostly full, and looked at his friend seriously. “You have to be honest about how you feel. Even if it’s crappy and feels bad, you have to at least admit that stuff is there. If not then it just gets worse and worse until...”  
  
“Until what?” Ichigo asked in a small voice, not really ready to hear the answer. He knew that Renji was describing him to a tee. There was a lot about himself he kept bottled up inside...  
  
Renji sighed. “Until you can’t anymore and you do something stupid.”  
  
He paused and continued again. “Look. I already told you I got nothing to hide. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, so listen up.”  
  
The red haired man took a fortifying sip of whiskey and began.  
  
“You already know I was a foster kid, I just told you that. So yeah. Both my parents were in jail by the time I was three, left me nowhere to go but into the foster system. As a kid, all I cared about was having a warm meal and a bed every night. Heh, still true actually.”  
  
Renji paused, smiling at his own joke.  
  
“Some of the homes I was in weren’t that great, though. I had to get taken out of a few of them because, you know, it’s pretty obvious when a kid is taken care of and when he isn’t. Still, the one I ended up in was alright. Parents never formally adopted me, but I couldn’t care less about that as long as I got some peace and quiet once and a while, which I did. Plus, I met some cool kids. And Rukia. Rukia I had to look after because she was older when her parents died and she didn’t know how to get by. But we made it work.  
  
“When I was twelve, I started having problems. I got into a lot of fights at school, didn’t go to class, got suspended, the whole deal. Inside I felt like there was something I was running away from, so I found all kinds of ways to keep myself occupied. Put myself on a lot of bad lists, you know? I was full on done with school by the eighth grade, no force in the whole damn world could make me put up with teachers and idiot babies. So I said fuck it and stopped going. One of the worst mistakes I ever made, or at least the first one.”  
  
Ichigo’s whole attention was fixated onto Renji. The older man had a mesmerizing way of speaking about all this, very natural, but full of hindsight. Neither of them had touched their drinks since the story started.  
  
“So I started hanging around my other friends, the kids I thought were cool and wanted to be just like. By the time I was sixteen, I was pushing dime bags for a friend and selling watches I knew were stolen. I liked doing that kind of stuff, gave me a rush. My friends started getting tattoos to show how many fights they’d been in so I did the same. Got into so many fights I ran out of room, so this is what I look like now. Weird part is, I can’t even say that I’m ashamed because the way I look was the one thing I was actually proud of. Getting all this ink was a way to show that I had a purpose, a thing to accomplish. Back then I couldn’t wait until the next fight so that I could get another one.”  
  
Ichigo ran his eyes over Renji’s tattoos. Damn it all, he still thought they were beautiful.  
  
“Yeah, so, no surprise, when I was eighteen my foster parents turned me out. They had had enough of the gang shit I was into. They had been practically counting down until my eighteenth birthday so that they didn’t have to foster me anymore. I thought it was going to be fine, but, yeah you know...turns out my other friends didn’t have a place for me to stay either. I guess none of us were rich enough to help out a freeloader. So, I was on the street.”  
  
“Really...?” Ichigo could not help but ask. Something about Renji being homeless...he couldn’t tell if it was hard to believe or if it just hurt him to think about it.  
  
“Oh, yeah. For a little while. I got tired of park benches and eventually started making the rounds through shelters. Some of them only give you a bed for a night though, and that really sucks because you have to be there at five o’clock when they make the decision if you get a bed or not. So most people hang around for the day to save their spot, make sure they get a bed. I remember...sitting in a chair for hours, felt like days, waiting for a hot meal and a bed. Like I said, I have my priorities.”  
  
Renji smirked at that.  
  
“But, right then, when I was sitting in that chair, it hit me. I was heading nowhere fast, I needed to stop and think about all the shit I didn’t want to think about so that I could finally move on. So I did. I realized that it honestly really pissed me off that I had to go through all that shit when I was a kid. It hurt. A lot. But you know what? End of the day, I was just pissed off and still sitting in that chair. It wasn’t going to get me anywhere to hang onto all that bad stuff.  
  
“I really think that’s the day I finally stood up on my own two feet, even if I was still sitting in the stupid chair. I actually don’t even think I got a bed that night anyway, but it didn’t matter. I felt different. I felt like I was ready to move forward. It wasn’t even like anything special happened, I just suddenly decided that I would keep going. That was it, my only big realization.  
  
“And you know what? I kept going. I settled into a stable shelter and got a job. Shihoin was willing to take a chance on me, probably owe her for life. Once I was employed for a little while, I qualified for public housing. So that’s when I moved into the place I have now and I’ve been there ever since.  
  
“You see what I’m saying, Ich?”  
  
The orange haired man stared at him, very overwhelmed. “Uh....”  
  
Renji sighed and shook his head. “My point is...you can’t fight the bad stuff. It’s there whether you want it to be or not. You just have to accept what you got and move forward. There’s no answer waiting for you at the end of the tunnel, no one swooping in to save you. There’s only you and the time when you’re ready to say, ‘Alright, that sucked, let’s keep going.’ You see that?”  
  
There was a level of truth to what Renji was saying that Ichigo didn’t know if he was ready to accept. Sure, it made sense. But when everything was turned around on him, the future was so uncertain...  
  
But no. He needed to move on. That was certain.  
  
“You’re...right again, you bastard,” Ichigo said softly, looking away from his friend to hide the tears that sprang to his eyes.  
  
“Heh, I know, I know. Sucks, doesn’t it? That’s why we drink!” Renji glanced over at his whiskey but did not bother to actually pull from it. “So tell me what’s going on with you, Ich. Just get it off your chest.”  
  
“It’s...my school.” Ichigo pressed his fingers into his eyes and stared hard at his drink. “I fucked up paying one of the bills a while back and now they took away all my financial aid. Without those loans, I can’t pay for shit here. So I’m out. They already dropped all my classes for me...I have to clean out all the stuff from my apartment by tomorrow...and I...just...”  
  
He covered his mouth to hold in the sob that had forced its way to the surface.  
  
“Whoa. That’s rough, man.” Renji placed his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. It was warm, as large as Ichigo remembered and familiar enough that Ichigo could not help but shiver under his touch.  
  
It felt like he was dissolving, all at once, held together only by the firm hand on his shoulder.  
  
“But hey, listen, it’s not the end of the world. So, you have to give up school for now. That’s alright! A lot of people don’t become doctors, kid, nothing you can do about that.”  
  
Renji’s hand slid to Ichigo’s back, rubbing between his shoulders. It was a light, friendly shoulder rub, but to the younger man it felt like everything. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that Renji would never stop.  
  
“And listen, you’re fine. You’re still a smart kid who can make something of himself, even if it’s not what you thought. Plans change, colleges kick you out, but you’re still Ichigo Kurosaki, a kid who can survive in this town even if it kills him, right?”  
  
Now Renji was laughing softly. He gripped Ichigo’s shoulder firmly, politely not mentioning how Ichigo’s face was wet with tears.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
Ichigo had never heard his friend use that tone before. It was honestly gentle, somewhat quiet. He could tell that Renji had moved his face closer.  
  
Silently, Ichigo nodded. If nothing else, he would move on from this. Renji had survived all the shit in his life, after all. They were the two of them survivors of a kindred nature, Ichigo thought all of a sudden. Maybe that’s why they got on so well. Maybe that’s why...  
  
“Good, well, at least that’s settled.” Renji patted Ichigo’s shoulder one more time and moved to take his hand away.  
  
Without thinking, Ichigo grabbed Renji’s hand before he could move any farther. He suddenly could not handle the thought of Renji taking his hand away. He could not stomach the idea of going back to just looking at those hands, wishing and dreaming they would touch him...it would be torture.  
  
Something inside him had clicked. Ichigo knew now that he was in love with his best friend. No more hiding from it. That was just they way things were.  
  
He held onto Renji’s hand for dear life.  
  
“Uh...okay...” the red-haired man said uneasily, letting Ichigo squeeze his hand and hold him in place.  
  
Renji gingerly placed his hand back on Ichigo’s shoulder. The younger man kept holding onto him.  
  
“Oh, wait! There’s something else, isn’t there?” Renji leaned in close again. “There’s gotta be if you’re holding onto me like that. Tell me, what is it?”  
  
Ichigo opened his mouth to say something...but he could not find the words. What could he say: I’ve been fantasizing about you so much I can’t even remember the last time I got off on something else? I think I’m in love with you and I have no idea how you feel about that?  
  
He couldn’t say it. He did not have the guts.  
  
Slowly, very slowly, as if he was letting go of his only life raft, Ichigo pulled his hand away from Renji’s.  
  
“It’s nothing,” he said softly, looking away and praying that Renji could not see his bright red face, could not feel the heat burning inside him.  
  
“Hmm. That ain’t nothing. You were about to say something, I could tell.” Renji crossed his arms stubbornly. “Well. Guess what. We’re not moving from here until you tell me what it is.”  
  
“Just forget it, it’s stupid...” Ichigo felt panic welling up again. How could he get out of this?  
  
“Not if it’s got you upset! Weren’t you listening to my story earlier? You can’t keep all this stuff bottled up inside---”  
  
“Stop.”  
  
Before he even realized he was moving, Ichigo found himself holding onto both of Renji’s hands. He was squeezing him, basically begging his friend for something but who knew what that was anymore.  
  
They sat there like that in silence for a few seconds. When Ichigo dared to look up, he saw Renji looking at him with an expression of sudden dawning, as if he had slowly started to realize something before it slapped him in the face.  
  
Then the older man broke out into a huge grin.  
  
“I see,” he said. Still smiling, he leaned in so close to Ichigo he was speaking directly into his ear. “Well. Looks like we need to go back to my place to work this all out.”  
  
Ichigo shivered as Renji’s breath travelled across his ear and down his neck. If he concentrated, he could imagine the feel of his lips, so close to touching his skin...  
  
Just before Ichigo lost it, Renji pulled back. “Is that okay?” he asked. Sincerely, this time.  
  
The orange haired man felt himself smiling. Of course. He should have known Renji would figure it out, even without saying anything. It wasn’t like Ichigo was good at being subtle, and besides, Renji knew him...  
  
And accepted him.  
  
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Ichigo replied.  
  
“Great.” Wasting no time, Renji was up, slapping a few dollars on the counter, calling over to his friend in natural good humor, and rushing straight towards the door. Ichigo followed after him, excitement kindling in his veins.  
  
“I’ll call us a cab,” Renji said cheerfully, smile plastered on his face.  
  
“Our bikes...” Ichigo reminded him, glancing over at the locked bikes regretfully.  
  
Renji swatted the idea way. “Don’t worry about it. We can leave them here over night, I’ve done it before. Everyone knows that’s my bike and not to mess with my shit.”  
  
It sounded more than reasonable. At the time, Ichigo was ready to throw his bike away altogether if it meant riding in a cab with Renji back to his place.  
  
They stood near the edge of the sidewalk, Renji flagging down anything yellow until finally a cab stopped for them. Surprisingly, Renji opened the door for his younger friend and raised his eyebrows enticingly. Ichigo snorted and got in, his chivalrous older friend sliding in after him.  
  
After Renji called out the address to the driver, they sat in sudden quiet, the noise from the city drowned out by the cab windows. Still, Ichigo felt like every nerve in his body was alive and screaming, itching for some kind of contact. His hands twitched at his side, hyper aware of Renji’s solid presence next to him.  
  
Before he could calm himself, Ichigo felt fingers brush up against his own. He flinched and bit back a sudden gasp. Looking down, he saw that Renji was running the backs of his fingers against Ichigo’s hand. The red head was looking out the window as if he did not even notice, but it was obvious what he was doing.  
  
Ichigo sighed and closed his eyes, unable to do anything but focus on his hand where Renji was slowly, wonderfully stroking him. It was barely any contact at all, but it was so intimate that there was no denying...Renji had acknowledged everything he was feeling and was more than happy to reciprocate.  
  
Brushing his fingers along Renji’s in return, Ichigo felt happier than he ever had.  
  
Along with several other emotions. Namely: Anxiety, because what the hell were they about to do. Embarrassment, he had been found out after all. Relief, it was all okay. And...well, Ichigo already felt his cock throbbing in excitement. He wanted to feel that same gentle brushing Renji was giving him along the length of his twitching hard on...  
  
Then the fingers were gone.  
  
“We’re here. Thanks, man!” Renji paid the cab driver and held the door open again.  
  
This time, Ichigo had trouble sliding out and onto his feet. The bulge in his jeans made sure of that. As for Renji, he did not even try to hide his excited stare. He trained his eyes on the front of Ichigo’s pants so intensely that Ichigo actually covered himself with one hand in embarrassment.  
  
When he got to his feet, Renji grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s hurry,” he said, grinning wildly again.  
  
They moved quickly through the housing complex to Renji’s room on the third floor. Ichigo had seen it all before, the painted brick walls, linoleum floors, long yellow hallway. The sight of Renji’s place was familiar enough to be a relief. He had really missed coming here.  
  
When they got inside, Ichigo didn't know what to do. How many times had he been here? Though, not like this exactly, with an uncomfortable stiffness in his pants making it hard to think.  
  
“So.” Renji came up behind him and grabbed his shoulders. Again, he leaned in to speak directly into Ichigo’s ear. “You sure you don’t have anything else you want to tell me? We’re all alone now...”  
  
The orange haired man turned around, facing the downright hungry look of his friend head on. He almost moaned at the sight, feeling his knees tremble slightly. His brain was perilously close to shorting out, so he could not work out anything to say.  
  
“Heh. I knew you’d just stand there. If you didn’t look so damn sexy right now I might have a problem with that.”  
  
Then Renji pulled Ichigo against him, bringing their mouths together for a rough, unbridled kiss that left Ichigo moaning and writhing against his friend. He had dreamed about it, sure, but in reality, Renji’s mouth was a force of its own. Demanding, searching, biting, sucking...Renji did it all.  
  
In response, Ichigo wrapped his hands around Renji’s neck, fighting to stay together. He needed more contact, soon, right away, all over...  
  
Renji broke away from his mouth with a low growl. Without realizing, Ichigo wrapped a leg around his friend’s waist, locking them together. As a result, his crotch rubbed up against Renji’s stomach, creating such intense pressure against his dick that the young man was worried he might come right then and there.  
  
“How long?” Renji muttered against Ichigo’s skin as he kissed and bit his way along his friend’s neck.  
  
“..Wha...t?” mumbled Ichigo.  
  
He tangled his fingers in Renji’s thick red mane, hair tie discarded somehow. With each bite, Ichigo fisted his friend’s hair, vaguely aware that he might be squeezing too hard. But Renji did not seem to mind.  
  
“I mean, how long have you felt this way and not said anything about it?” As he spoke, Renji licked a long stripe up Ichigo’s Adam’s apple.  
  
Gasping, Ichigo rubbed his face into Renji’s hair and inhaled deeply. His friend’s scent went straight to his head and he felt already perilously close to the edge.  
  
“It’s...been a while now...” the orange haired man finally admitted.  
  
Renji bit down hard on the juncture between Ichigo’s neck and shoulder. The younger man felt himself losing control, already wet.  
  
“Damn you, Ichigo. Why would you keep something like that from me, hmm?”  
  
“I’m--I’m sorry...I just...I didn’t know it would be like this...” It was the truth anyway.  
  
Renji pulled off Ichigo’s t-shirt. He stared at his friend’s bare chest, brown eyes flashing with an idea. He ran his hands down the front of Ichigo’s body, watching the younger man twitch in response, head falling back. The kid was sensitive to touch, it seemed.  
  
“Well now you know.” Renji pulled Ichigo close again, gathering him in his arms and kissing the side of his face softly. Ichigo was shocked at the sudden turn around, how Renji could go from ravenous to gentle in seconds.  
  
“And no more sorry, alright?” Renji grabbed Ichigo’s face in his hands and stared deeply into his eyes. Ichigo could not look away. “I want you to enjoy this now.”  
  
If only Renji knew how much Ichigo was enjoying this. “Renji, I’m already--”  
  
“Come on.”  
  
Renji guided Ichigo into his bedroom by the hand. As soon as they were through the doorway, the older man pushed him onto the bed so that he was laying on his back, Renji laying next to him on his side.  
  
They kissed for a little while longer, running their hands up the sides of each others’ bodies, Ichigo feeling underneath Renji’s t-shirt. Eventually, Renji pinned Ichigo down beneath him, trapping the younger man’s legs between his knees so that Renji could hover comfortably over him.  
  
Ichigo looked up at Renji. He was panting and uncomfortably close to coming. Just the way Renji looked with his hair undone, eating up the sight of Ichigo’s wrecked body.  
  
Smiling, Renji grabbed the straining bulge in Ichigo’s jeans. “So then how long have you had this? Since the cab ride, right?”  
  
Ichigo held onto Renji’s shoulders. His hips bucked upwards, rubbing his hardness into Renji’s wide, sturdy palm. He should be embarrassed, but damn...he could not hold this back anymore.  
  
“Or was it even before that?” Renji starting massaging the bulge, squeezing and pulling at what he found there, making Ichigo’s eyes roll back into his head.  
  
“How many times have you had a hard on because of me and I didn’t even know? How many times have you tried to hide one from me when I was around?”  
  
“...A lot...” Ichigo managed to say between moans. He wanted to hold on as long as he could, but it felt so good to admit that.  
  
“Heh, you’re good.” Renji laid down on top of his friend and growled low into his ear. “But now I’ve got this right here in my hand where it belongs.”  
  
Giving his hardness a particularly rough squeeze, Renji bit onto the shell of Ichigo’s ear possessively.  
  
It was too much. Ichigo climaxed all of a sudden, quivering beneath his friend. Renji pumped him through it, licking and sucking any skin he could find.  
  
After Ichigo had gone completely still, Renji slowly moved away from him, running his eyes over his friend’s form to see if he was alright. For his part, Ichigo wanted to curl up in on himself and let it all end there. He had orgasmed way too soon, from barely any touching, all because of his best friend’s sexy mouth and voice...  
  
As a result, Ichigo rolled onto his side, trying to cover up the large wet stain on the front of his pants.  
  
“What?” Renji asked, rolling Ichigo onto his back again with one hand. “You serious? I just watched you come in your pants and now you’re getting shy?”  
  
“Renji...!” Ichigo stared pointedly in the opposite direction. He could not remember ever being more embarrassed in his life.  
  
The older man chuckled and leaned in to kiss his addled friend’s chest. Ichigo calmed somewhat under Renji’s careful lips, feeling some dignity return at the thought that Renji was not turned off.  
  
“I’m sorry...” Ichigo said softly, lightly fisting some of Renji’s hair. “I’ve never done that before...”  
  
Renji grinned wildly and wrapped Ichigo in an embrace that was somewhat lopsided considering their positions.  
  
“Well, I’m flattered,” the older man said reassuringly.  
  
They held each other like that for a moment, recognizing it as a turning point for the both of them. No way they could go back to being friends after something like that, Ichigo coming in his pants from a few pulls...  
  
“And, hey, what did I tell you about saying sorry?”  
  
With that gentle reminder, Renji sat up. His face had a strange feral quality with his  hair so out of control. But he looked so happy Ichigo did not feel intimidated at all. Slowly, he opened Ichigo’s pants and pulled them away (Ichigo shut his eyes and pretended he did not feel the wetness there).  
  
Staring at his friend wearing only a soaked pair of boxers, Renji climbed on top of Ichigo again. This time, Ichigo slid the older man’s shirt away from his chest. His eyes widened hungrily as he took in the sight of Renji’s torso, every bit the same as he imagined. But so much better.  
  
Leaning upwards, Ichigo ran his mouth over every tattooed inch of his friend’s body. He moaned quietly with each kiss, nibbling softly to savor the taste of each spot.  
  
Renji hummed contentedly. He ran his fingers across the waistband of Ichigo’s boxers, slowly slipping inside. Now they did not need to rush, they could take their time.  
  
Both of them moaned and grabbed harder at each other once they felt Renji stroking Ichigo’s slick, slowly hardening flesh. Renji felt every ridge and curve of his friend. He watched intently as Ichigo shivered in response, literally coaxing him into getting another erection.  
  
Almost as an afterthought, Renji pulled down Ichigo’s boxers. His face lit up as he stared down at a fully naked Ichigo. From where he lay, Ichigo felt as if his world had been narrowed down to those few brief seconds, the point where Renji finally saw all of him, soaked and aroused as he was. That was true honesty--no more secrets left to hide.  
  
After they had both recovered from that, Ichgio squirmed into a sitting position. He took off Renji’s pants as well.

Now they were both naked and staring at each other. Ichigo felt his body twinge with need when he saw Renji’s manhood. It was a thick, very decently sized cock, something so definitely unique to his friend, from the trail of ink leading downwards all the way to the bulk itself. Ichigo wanted to feel that cock in his mouth so badly it actually hurt.  
  
The orange haired man gripped Renji’s length with both hands, cupping his balls and stroking every inch of him. Renji sucked in air between his teeth, clearly restraining himself.  
  
“Come on, don’t hold back on me,” Ichigo said with a smile, dying to see Renji come as well.  
  
“Wait,” Renji replied opening his eyes and pushing Ichigo’s hands away gently. “I gotta do this first.”  
  
Before Ichigo could ask what it was, Renji pulled his friend’s legs apart and shoved his face into the younger man’s lap. Without any warning, the red head took Ichigo’s whole length into his mouth and began lapping up the slickness that remained there, tasting his friend’s essence.

Renji ran his tongue up and down Ichigo's cock. He moved slowly, agonizingly slow even, but he wanted to make it last as long as he could. He moved his head back and forth, heightening the sensation for Ichigo. Renji felt hands gripping the back of his head, fingers scrambling for purchase in his hair. Knowing that Ichigo probably wouldn't last no matter how slow he went, the older man decided to suck hard.   
  
“God, Renji...” Ichigo moaned, hips bucking furiously. “I can’t, I’m going to--”  
  
With that, Ichigo came again, spilling into Renji’s mouth. The red head swallowed it with no complaints, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He looked very satisfied with himself.  
  
“I’m so--”  
  
“Don’t say it,” Renji cut in. “Don’t even think about saying sorry. That was the hottest thing that’s happened to me in years, and I would never make you feel bad about coming hard like that.”  
  
Ichigo knew he was blushing but he didn’t care anymore. He smiled, fighting back more tears. Actually it was unusual he had made it this far without tearing up...  
  
“You okay?” Renji asked, honestly concerned for a moment.  
  
Ichigo smiled wider. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Even if he did cry, what did it matter at this point. “Now come on, let me take care of you already!”  
  
So, Ichigo flipped their positions and laid on top of Renji. He reveled in the amazing feel of resting along his friend’s naked body. He grabbed confidently onto Renji’s straining hardness, tugging and stroking in equal measure. At least he was something of a pro at this because of all the solo practice. He watched every fleeting expression along Renji’s face as he worked, hoping to remember this moment forever.  
  
“Ichigo...” Renji called breathlessly. Rarely did he ever call him by his full name. “You’re so good at this...I’m about to...”  
  
“Do it. Come for me, Renji.”  
  
And so, Renji climaxed into his friend’s hand with a loud groan. While he watched, Ichigo felt almost like he was experiencing it himself because of how intense it looked. Perfect.  
  
Afterwards, they lay against each other quietly. Ichigo had wrapped himself around Renji and felt content to just press his face into the older man’s stomach for now. Renji reached over him into the nightstand to fish out a cigarette and lighter. He puffed contemplatively while they breathed slowly in and out.  
  
“By the way,” Ichigo said, feeling sleep on the edge of his vision. “You left your sweatshirt at my place the other night.”  
  
Renji coughed out a laugh. “Heh, was wondering where that thing went. Well, I hope you used it wisely.”  
  
“Yeah, I did.”  
  
Before there could be any more conversation, Ichigo fell asleep. For once, his brain shut off quietly.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
  
The next morning, Ichigo woke up to Renji’s comfortable snores. They had miraculously stayed in the same position all night. The orange haired man did not want to wake his friend up, but he really had to do something...didn’t he? Wasn’t there something he was missing? Yesterday was Friday so today was...  
  
Shit. Saturday.  
  
Ichigo shot out of bed and began searching wildly for his clothes.  
  
“Whoa, hang on there, kiddo. What’s the rush?” Renji stretched languidly and yawned, rolling over onto his side to get a good look at Ichigo’s naked body frantically searching.  
  
Ichigo blushed and took in the sight of Renji, hair wild still, lazily waking up in the morning. His body wanted to slide up against him and enjoy the moment more than anything, but there was the fact that it was Saturday to consider...  
  
“It’s Saturday,” Ichigo answered, forcing himself to refocus on finding his clothes.  
  
“And that means...what? We’re not working until 5:00.” Renji yawned again and kept staring, looking intently at Ichigo’s lower half.  
  
“It’s 8:00 on Saturday morning. My stuff was supposed to be out of the apartment eight hours ago.”  
  
Realization dawned on Renji, then he laughed wholeheartedly. “Relax,” he said. “You think there was a guy waiting out there at midnight last night, waiting to see if you moved out or not? It’s cool, you have some time. Let’s head down there together.”  
  
“No, but, I don’t know what time check-in at the hotel is, I think it’s until 10:00--”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Renji sat up, looking almost offended now. “You think you’re staying in a hotel? You shithead, what are you crazy?”  
  
Ichigo stared at him blankly.  
  
Renji laughed and walked over to him. They were both naked, fresh from a night of sex, and now pressed up against each other. Ichigo shivered in pleasure as his older friend cupped the side of his face and pressed his nose into his cheek.  
  
“You can stay here with me until you figure something out.”  
  
The offer felt somehow wrong. How could he freeload off his friend like that..? But Ichigo knew Renji was being sincere. After all, the man knew what it was like to have no place to go.  
  
Ichigo smiled and pressed their foreheads together. “You mean I have to stay with you, after finding out you snore like that?”  
  
Renji laughed. “Looks like you’ll have to get used to it, princess.”  
  
They could not be sure who started it, but then they were kissing. Softly at first, then more urgently. It felt right. Like they had both been missing an essential part of their relationship that suddenly made sense now.  
  
“Now, come on,” Renji said firmly, planting a kiss on Ichigo’s shoulder. “Let’s go down to get your stuff.”  
  
Ichigo nodded and moved to find the rest of his clothes. He came up defeated when he found the soiled remains of his underwear and jeans from the night before.  
  
“Here you go, tiger,” Renji said as he held out a pair of his own pants and clean boxers. “You can borrow mine for today, since you got a little excited last night and ruined yours...”  
  
“Hey, I just...” Ichigo began, taking the clothes bashfully.  
  
“Hmm?” Renji asked, looking curious at what defense his friend could come up with.  
  
Ichigo sighed. “Nothing.” After all, what was there.  
  
They dressed in silence. Once Renji took in the sight of Ichigo’s ass and legs wrapped neatly in his clothes, the older man whistled loudly.  
  
“Damn. Those pants definitely work for you, Ich.” He came up behind the younger man and cupped his backside playfully.  
  
Ichigo froze, feeling out this new part of their friendship...or whatever it was turning into. “Well, they’re yours so...”  
  
“Yup. Have to say, I wouldn’t mind if you ruined these too...”  
  
Renji ran his thumb along Ichigo’s zipper, feeling delighted at how the younger man’s cock jumped in response.  
  
“Renji...” Ichigo held lightly onto his friend’s wrists, wanting to let Renji touch him all over again.  
  
“But,” Renji said, moving away reluctantly. “There will be plenty of time for that later. Let’s head over to your apartment now so you can calm down a little and enjoy yourself today.”  
  
“Sounds good.” He said that, but Ichigo could not help feeling slightly disappointed. Still, it was better to take these things slowly. Or...something.  
  
They took another cab downtown, Renji paying for the ride again without even questioning it. It only took them a few minutes to move the few boxes Ichigo had packed into the trunk of the cab. It took...a little longer for Ichigo to say goodbye to the writing desk. He told himself that it would be useful to whoever lived in that apartment after him--whatever poor soul attempted to do what he had done. They would need all the help they could get, just like he had.  
  
Before Ichigo got into the cab to head back to Renji’s place, he checked his mailbox.  
  
There it was. A letter from the financial aid office addressed to him. He held the letter in his hands for a few seconds, breathing deeply. Renji’s words from the night before came back to him.  
  
_Listen, you’re fine. You’re still a smart kid who can make something of himself, even if it’s not what you thought._  
  
No matter what was written in this letter, he would be alright.  
  
He opened the envelope and read the report on the office’s final decision.  
  
Dear Ichigo Kurosaki, we regret to inform you that your appeal has been denied and there will be no further allotment of loans into your account....  
  
Yeah. Thought so.  
  
Ichigo stood there for a while, repeating Renji’s words over and over, squeezing his eyes against the tears that fell anyway.  
  
“Hey, so I think that’s the last box---oh.” Renji came up next to him. He read the letter over Ichigo’s shoulder.  
  
“Gotcha. Well, no surprises there, at least, right?” The red head wrapped his arms around Ichigo’s torso, resting his chin on the younger man’s shoulder. “Looks like you’ll have to put up with my snoring after all.”  
  
Ichigo took a deep breath and wiped away the rest of his tears. “Yeah, looks like it,” he replied.  
  
Honestly, the idea made him feel much better. There was a big part of him that couldn’t work up being upset at all thinking about how he would be spending a lot more time with Renji. Time when they could do...all sorts of things...  
  
The cab ride back felt relaxed. Renji smoked with the windows down, the driver didn’t seem to mind. Ichigo knew it would be pointless to ask what they were now, where they stood with each other. It was obvious.  
  
This was their life now. Together.  
  
Ichigo leaned back against the seat. He grabbed Renji’s free hand and put it in his lap.  
  
It felt good to be moving on.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Really personal stuff. The message here is: No matter what happens, you can always move on. (I would say that's the message of Bleach, but that shit is so crazy I don't even know what the message of the anime/manga is. So let's go with this.)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope this story delivered. Wishing you all the best times in life and fanfiction!


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